


all the intensity of yesterday

by serendipitousDescent



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 20th Century, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-08-31 23:55:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8598883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serendipitousDescent/pseuds/serendipitousDescent
Summary: His story begins with a storm. But it won't end with one. (And somewhere between the two, the impossible happens. Not surviving the storm or the ways the storm changes him. No, the impossible takes the form of a Russian figure skater whose love surprises him every day.)





	1. and like

**Author's Note:**

> This... was meant to be a one shot. Obviously it isn't one anymore but I think that's understandable given how this show has managed to steal all my emotions and priorities for the foreseeable future. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

_Huh, you’re here because - that’s really cool, actually! There’s this old story that all of the locals know about figure skaters around here, I wonder if they’re related. I can tell it to you, if you want. It might take your mind off of whatever you came here for. Hey, that’s not fair! Just because I didn’t grow up here myself, doesn’t mean that I don’t know all the juicy details. Don’t look at me like that, it isn’t fair._

_Whatever._

_That’s just rude! Maybe I shouldn’t tell you- Fine, fine, I’ll stop teasing now. Anyways, this story. I heard it before I even came to Hasetsu, actually, but some of the locals told me the rest of the story._

_It doesn’t actually start with the figure skater, sorry. At least, not the figure skater that you’re talking about - I think his name might have been Nicholas or Victor or something like that? But he wouldn’t have come to this place if it weren’t for someone else. Well, maybe he would have. From what I’ve heard, he was in a bit of a rut when he came here, didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life._

_So, that means it starts with the ice spirit! This is my favourite part. Huh, you haven’t heard anything about an ice spirit? But he’s the most important part of the story! Our own make-shift Yuki-onna. If nothing else, someone else should have at least mentioned him to you before now. You’ve been hanging around for what, a month now?_

* * *

“Yuuri, I think you should spend the night.” 

Yuuri briefly glances up from his bag before redirecting his attention back towards its stubborn zipper. Any longer and it will probably split at the seams but it will work well enough for the trek home. 

That does nothing to stop Yuuko from pouting though. He can practically hear it until she dips her head down, confronting him with the over-dramatic reality of it. She stays oblivious to the way his head jerks backwards at the sudden proximity. But there’s no way she misses the way his face flushes, far darker than the chill in the air makes necessary. 

If it weren’t for her current mission, she would almost certainly tease him about it. 

“Yuuri,” she repeats, drawing out his name. “Your parents won’t mind if you don’t make it home tonight. Not with that storm.” 

“It’s not that bad.” It probably is that bad. The only time Yuuri will admit that right now is on his deathbed. “And they need my help at the hot springs tonight. Mari is on a trip with her new boyfriend, remember?” 

Yuuko makes an odd face at the reminder. “Right. But there won’t be too many customers with this storm, just give them a-”

“A phone call?” Yuuri says dryly. 

“Oh.”

They share a smile, amusement overcoming the worry over the storm. A couple of pointed comments hadn’t been enough to convince his parents to install a phone, even if the Ice Castle had benefited from it. It’s a hope they plan to keep working on though. 

“Fine,” Yuuko says. “Go home then. I don’t know why I bother, I’ve never been able to change your mind about something before. Just… stop by once the storm finally blows over, would you? I don’t trust that you won’t get lost in a snowbank, not with how bad your eyesight is.” 

“My eyesight is fine!” 

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t bother to call him out on the obvious lie. When it come to things she’s never been able to change his mind on, that’s likely the biggest. Even though both of them know it’s more that he hates his thick, bulky glasses rather than any ability to see properly. 

A swift tug finally closes his bag and Yuuri pulls it over his shoulder, everything finally ready to go. He’s always the last one at the Ice Castle anyways. But this is the first time Yuuko spent the entire evening hesitantly glancing towards the front door, as if he might catch on fire if he goes out there. It’s an interesting turn of events. A part of him wishes she would look at him like that everytime he leaves but he’s long since stopped expecting that will ever happen. At least not in the way he wants it to.

Only Yuuko is still staring at him, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, and Yuuri can’t just leave with her looking like that. 

“I’m going to be fine,” he says firmly. Even if he isn’t, the world won’t stop, but he knows that she won’t appreciate the sentiment. “Just close up and stop worrying so much, alright?” 

She hesitates before pulling him into a swift hug. “Fine. But you better have a nice, warm bath when you get home and I better see you in a couple days.” 

Yuuri hugs her back and then steps away, heading towards the door. He knows she’s watching him leave and so he tries not to let the biting cold bother him too much when he steps outside. It stings his nose, even as he pulls his scarf up over his mouth. At least it isn’t as cold as it felt this morning.

Then again, there hadn’t been snow this morning. Or a single cloud in the sky to warn them of the upcoming storm. Now the faint lights from the Ice Castle disappear only steps away from the front door as he’s swallowed up by the storm. The world look different like this. Mostly in that Yuuri can’t quite convince himself that it exists outside of his imagination. Or maybe he’s the one that doesn’t really exist in all of this. 

His memory guides him through the streets more than anything else. For once, he’s thankful for the number of times he’s walked from home to the rink and vice versa, and solidifies his reasoning in turning down Yuuko’s offer. Yuuri knows how to get home. A storm isn’t going to change that, not even when he can’t see two feet in front of him, even when his legs ache with every step he takes. 

Except when it does.

Except when the snow gives way under his feet and Yuuri falls, snow soft and pliant against the wool of his mittens.

* * *

_Why are you looking at me like that?_

_You think - ugh, he’s not going to die, okay? If you let me tell the story for a few minutes longer, you would know that!_

_I just said he wasn’t going to die! I wouldn’t tell you the story of a dead boy, I promise. At least not the story of someone who’s entirely dead - don’t look at me like that, I know what I’m doing! You were the one who wanted to hear the story in the first place._

_Okay, so I might have just come up to you and starting talking about it. Whatever. Anyways, that storm changed a lot of things, even if it took a while for people to notice. The ice spirit had known a lot of people here because, well, this is where he grew up and people like going to his parent’s hot springs. But he wanted to go train in Detroit, I think. Almost did but the storm really did change more than it should have._

* * *

Hospitals are boring.

Yuuri knows this deep in his bones as he stares up at the hospital ceiling. A walk would do him some good but he doesn’t want to admit how exhausting leaving this room is, especially not after years of trying to keep himself in shape for his skating. Knowing this leaves him in a strange mood. It’s somewhere between exhaustion and restlessness, and everyone looks sad and lost when they leave. 

There’s nothing he can do about that. Whether he smiles or snaps or ignores them entirely, they always look that way. 

Pity is the last thing he wants anyways. 

What he really wants is to stand up and go to the Ice Castle, to skate and let these last couple weeks fade away. Except he can’t. More than not being able to walk for more than a handful of minutes at a time, his bag is at the bottom of some snow bank. It will be weeks before someone will find it, longer if the snow decides to stick around for longer than that, which is exactly what the weatherman over the radio predicts. 

A knock at the door draws his attention from the sting of his eyes and Yuuri hurriedly wipes away the remaining tears just as it opens. Nobody should be here. Yuuko came and went in the morning, as did his parents just a couple hours ago. Even the nurses leave him alone when they can, only wandering in to offer him water or check his blood pressure. 

“Damn, it’s cold in here,” a familiar voice mutters and Takeshi somehow manages to avoid his gaze, sitting in the chair beside his bed. “Why don’t you ask the nurses to turn on the heat in this place? I think they’d understand why you don’t want to try freezing to death again.” 

Yuuri frowns. “What are you talking about? I asked them to turn it down.” 

Takeshi finally looks at him, far more skeptical than a comment about the temperature had any right to receive. But there’s no way for Yuuri to ignore the thick jacket and scarf he’s bundled in compared to Yuuri’s thin shirt and pants. 

“Whatever, freeze if you want.” 

They sit there in silence for longer than feels acceptable, something heavy sitting between them. Figuring out exactly what that thing is is difficult, always has been. Yuuri has been trying to explain it for years now and has not once come up with a satisfying answer, regardless of who he put the responsibility on. 

It’s not as if Yuuri holds his teasing against him or hasn’t noticed his feelings for Yuuko. All of that contributes to why he’s been able to step back from his own feelings. The same stepping back that has been his saving grace lately - no, between realizing his own feelings a couple years ago and his accident. He really hasn’t thought much about those feelings since the accident. 

Takeshi sighs and runs a hand through his short hair. If Yuuri didn’t know him so well, that could have been dismissed as exhaustion rather than being nervous. But he does know Takeshi that well and so it only adds to the odd atmosphere.

“Are you going to say it or not?” Yuuri says quietly. 

“I am! Just… give me a moment.” Hardly a second passes before Takeshi all but throws his hands up in the air, giving up on whatever was holding him back, and slumps into the chair. “You know I’ve been dating Yuuko for a few months now, right?” 

Oh. 

They’re going to have this conversation then. 

Yuuri slowly lets out his breath and offers Takeshi a comforting smile. As comforting as he can make it, anyways. “Almost a year now, actually. It would be difficult to miss even if she wasn’t my best friend.” 

“I want to ask her to marry me.”

The admission brings Yuuri’s mind to a sudden halt. 

Takeshi is watching him, he’s able to tell that much and so he schools his expression into something neutral. It’s easier than it should be, given the conversation is going in a much different direction than he expected. But neutral first, and then he tries for a smile. It must fall short, given the apprehension on Takeshi’s face, but that’s not because he disapproves of the idea. 

It’s just that he forgot that the rest of the world is still moving forward. 

“I’m glad,” he manages and it comes as a surprise that he means it. 

Tension drains out of Takeshi. “Really? I wasn’t sure. You guys have always been really close and I know nothing’s going to happen between you but, well, I’m not blind. I almost asked her while we were out looking for you, actually, but then I realized that might be in bad taste.” 

“Probably,” Yuuri agrees. But he can picture it, even now, Takeshi’s earnestness growing as they searched streets and snowbanks alike, only ever brought out by Yuuko. “I’m sure she still would have said yes.” 

“But the story would be so _tacky_ -” 

“‘I proposed to her shortly after this storm came in,’” Yuuri interrupts, feeling his lips twitch up into a real smile as he mimics Takeshi’s deeper voice. “‘One of our friends had gone missing - I knew he was going to be fine, he has enough fat on him - but she was just so worried and it was so cute. I just couldn’t _help_ myself. Oh, the friend? Don’t worry, he’s still alive.” 

Takeshi laughs from the bottom of his stomach. “Exactly.” 

“It might have been worth it.” 

The point is acknowledged with a slight nod and they lapse into silence again. It isn’t like it was before though. Not awkward or tense, even though Yuuri knows he could very well bring that feeling back, is even a bit tempted to. But the urge is drowned out by the prospect of seeing Yuuko dressed for her wedding, bright and happy and eager for the future. Maybe that should hurt a bit more than it does, given what he thought his feelings were. 

Instead, Yuuri feels more content than he has in a long time. His future isn’t laid out for him and that means he doesn’t know what’s in store for him, whether it’s happiness or heartbreak. But for the first time, it feels like he has the space to figure out what he wants from the future. 

Maybe he needed something like this. 

“Is there any way-” 

“I was going to ask-” 

They both stop, startled out of their own thoughts. Yuuri is the first to laugh, shrugging off the shock as he motions for Takeshi to go ahead. His question can wait. 

“Would you be my best man?” Takeshi asks, far too calm for the situation. “Only if she says yes, of course. But you were the first one I thought of when I realized I wanted to ask her.” 

It takes precious long moments for the words to process. 

Getting hit in the head with a two by four would likely be more useful to this conversation with the way Takeshi keeps coming at him with these things. It doesn’t help that he’s only smiling like he knows something Yuuri doesn’t. Or is not-so-secretly amused by the span of expressions moving across his face. Yuuri has never been particularly good at keeping his emotions hidden away from sight. 

“Isn’t that an American tradition?” he blurts out. 

Takeshi nods and there’s a smirk hidden away in his smile now that definitely wasn’t there before. “It is. You wouldn’t have any part in the ceremony itself though, I think it’ll probably be more of a casual thing.” 

“Uh.” 

“Feel free to think about it a bit longer.” 

“But you want me to be your _best man_?” The way he splutters is a bit embarrassing but Yuuri can’t think about it too hard when the only two words going through his mind are how and why. There are at least a dozen people he can think of who would be better suited for the position. “What about your other friends?” 

Takeshi shakes his head before Yuuri even manages to finish the question. “It wouldn’t be the same. Sure, you’re the one who goes off and competes all the time but it’s been the three of us since we were kids. That means a lot.”

“Ok.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, I’ll do it.” 

The grin Takeshi gives him in return immediately makes accepting worth it. As if Yuuri needs an excuse to be a part of his friends’ wedding, symbolic or not. As if it isn’t almost a given that he wants to support them as much as he can. 

Maybe it wasn’t before. There’s a lot he needs to think about, especially keeping this in mind. If he knows both Takeshi and Yuuko as well as he thinks he does, they won’t want to wait too long before having the ceremony. If he works hard, he’ll probably get most of his movement back by then. Just like getting back in shape for competitions every year, only on a completely different scale. That’s something he knows he can handle. 

If it means watching his friends get married, he can more than handle it.

“So, what were you going to ask me?” Takeshi asks. 

Yuuri blinks and then his mouth straightens as he looks at Takeshi, determined. “My skates. I know they’re still buried somewhere but I was wondering if you could take a look again. Just in case.” 

“Of course.” Takeshi doesn’t even bother pretending to be shocked. “Looking for it might even take my mind off of my dinner reservation with Yuuko tomorrow night.”

* * *

“Yuuri, are you sure you don’t want to soak in the hot spring for a while?” his mother asks as he excuses himself from dinner. 

“I’m sure,” Yuuri says. “Actually, I think I’m just going to go to bed tonight.”

It has to be the third or fourth time he’s told her that now and he knows she’s noticed it. The only time she ever frowns like that is when she’s concerned about something. Lately, that something is always him. Of course it is. He’s been home for weeks now and he still isn’t acting the way he normally does. If their situations were reversed, he would be just as concerned about her. 

She lets him go though, only partially because she turns to smile at a customer walking past. Timing like that isn’t something Yuuri is about to turn away and so he slips down the hall, dying to take off his sweater. 

Sneaking out to the rink would make things a lot easier. Skating always helps him when he feels like this but the doctor forbid him from spending too much time on the ice yet and he can feel the ache in his legs from earlier. Like it or not, someone will notice if he pushes himself too far, even if he doesn’t think it’s too far. Then they’ll try and figure out what’s wrong with him and that’s the last thing he wants. 

It isn’t as if he’s oblivious. Yuuri knows there’s something about him. Soaking in the hot spring every evening used to be one of his favourite parts of the day, the warm water working at the knots from training. Now he feels like he’s boiling alive if he stays in there for more than a few seconds at a time.

His bedroom door closes behind almost soundlessly and Yuuri slumps against it, letting out the cool breath he’s been holding back since the Ice Castle. 

If he focuses, he’ll see that the tips of his fingers are blue. 

And so Yuuri doesn’t focus on much of anything. 

The cold air is already acting like a balm on his skin, the towel along the bottom of his door keeping anyone outside from noticing. There is still a couple inches of snow outside but his window is open as far as he dares. Anymore and someone will be able to notice. And they’ll say something because keeping a window open in this weather isn’t normal, not in any sense of the word. 

Nothing about him is normal these days. 

Today was the ice at practice. There hadn’t been a single mark on it when he came off the rink. No shavings from turns or stops, none of the scratches that left evidence of everything he did, not even a single groove. 

It bothers him but not even in the way it should. Ice like that should have made him falter, made him slide a bit too far when he landed the sole quad he attempted. Instead it was as easy as breathing, the only time he doesn’t feel like there’s something wrong with him. Even if he knows that’s not the case. 

A doctor probably won’t be able to explain this to him if he asked. Try as they might, they haven’t felt the press of snow and ice from every angle, haven’t felt the relief of darkness breaking away into light or the sound of a familiar voice. There is no logical explanation for why he’s turned towards the cold even more after experiencing something like that. By all accounts, Yuuri should be seeking warmth at every turn, should hate the way his fingers and toes never quite feel warm. 

But even that attempt at understanding simplifies things. 

A lot. 

It doesn’t explain how his fingertips sometimes turn blue, like they are right now. It doesn’t explain how Takeshi found his bag and thus his skates under a shallow pile of snow, only a couple feet from the road he veered off of. It doesn’t explain why he can’t sleep, no matter how long he spends staring up at the ceiling.

* * *

Yuuko and Takeshi are sitting the in the front of the car while Yuuri pretends he can’t see their intertwined hands overtop of the emergency brake. Getting married only seems to have made them more wrapped up in each other than before. Except now Yuuri can’t bring himself to hate the looks they give each other. 

Thinking about them, about the quiet announcement Yuuko made last night, is easier than mentally going through his routine for another countless times. Logically, Yuuri knows each twist and jump, he knows the music, he is as prepared as he can be without another day or week or six months to practice it. Emotionally, not so much. This is an old problem just as much as it is a new one, only multiplied by… something. 

They pass the last turn off before the city limits and Yuuri sighs. 

It’s too much to hope that this is going to pass, especially when he can feel the opposite happening. A clawing in his gut paired with a pressing urge to squeeze his eyes shut and block out the rest of the world. Center himself, maybe. So long as it’s somewhere that isn’t here. 

Yuuko glances back and makes a soft noise of concern. “Are you okay, Yuuri?” 

The car keeps moving even as she twists in her seat, Takeshi a steady presence beside her. If it weren’t for them, Yuuri certainly wouldn’t have been able to get in the car at all this morning. 

As it is, he can’t bring himself to answer. He tries to focus on something else instead, on the constant clunking of car, the radio on low, his own breathing, even as it wavers where it shouldn’t. But something else is too distracting. It pulls his attention back to how wrong this feels and he tries not to grimace at the wave of intense nausea. This can’t just be nerves. Not when he’s thinking about leaving Hasetsu instead of his routine. 

It’s a strange sensation. 

“Takeshi, can you pull over?” 

The words feel distant but they can’t be because the car jerks to the side, slowing to a quick stop. And just like that, the world is righted again, at least to an extent. Yuuri opens his eyes, can see the sign marking the Hasetsu’s city limits in front of them, and takes a deep breath. 

His friends are staring. They must be worried and Yuuri knows he’s the cause of that worry but he can’t bring himself to say anything. Not yet. Not even to tell Takeshi to get going, to say that if they stall here, they’ll miss the competition, to assure them he just feels nervous. He probably doesn’t look just nervous. But he isn’t about to mention the nausea or even the lightheadedness to either of them. That would just make them worry more and-

It takes a moment for him to realize what’s going on when his car door opens. Yuuri hadn’t noticed Yuuko getting out of her seat, but she must have because now she’s pulling him into a hug. Like always, she’s a bit too way. But more surprising is the way his breath catches on a sob, how he crumples into her arms as if his world is ending. 

Oh. 

It is.

He won’t be able to train in Detroit now.

If this is what it’s like when he tries to leave his hometown, Yuuri can only imagine how much worse getting on a plane would be.

“Yuuri,” Yuuko murmurs, carding her fingers through his hair. “Is this just because you haven’t competed since the accident or…?”

“No, it’s-”

Yuuri cuts himself off. The truth is too heavy to admit to, will only grow if he manages to breathe life into it. Tucking his nose into Yuuko’s shoulder is the only thing he can bring himself to do, his fingers clutching at her shirt. 

Yuuko hums but she does stop what she’s doing, not even for a second. “Okay. We’ll turn around then and bring you back to our place for a few days. You can sleep on our couch and we haven’t gotten around to buying a radio yet, so you won’t even be tempted to listen in on the competition.” 

“But what about your reservations at that fancy restaurant tomorrow night-”

“Not happening,” Takeshi interrupts cheerfully and he’s already pulling back onto the street, no one around to stop him from turning back towards Hasetsu. “Pay us back by cooking us a nice, home-cooked meal, okay?”

Yuuko lets out a sharp huff. “Takeshi!” 

“What? Sure, it wouldn’t be any fun worrying about him the entire time but I paid money for those reservations.”

The rest of his protests die on his tongue and eventually he shifts so that his head is in Yuuko’s lap as they get closer and closer to home. The feeling of wrongness fades but the disgust, a heavy ball in the pit of his stomach doesn’t. Yuuri doesn’t want it to. Not when this is entirely his own fault. 

People will wonder why he never showed up to the competition. Even he thought it would be his new lease on life, that it would be that final push towards moving past everything that held him back before. His anxiety, his feelings for Yuuko, his lack of belief in himself. Now he’ll be dismissed as just another person who lost their nerve right before a competition and few will be surprised, especially not if they’ve competed with him before. If they’ve seen him towards the end of a season, ranking well until he crashes and burns. Just like always. 

Returning home like this is its own beginning but it isn’t the beginning he wants.

* * *

_The ice spirit came a bit of an outcast after that. Not because people blamed him for missing the competition or anything like that! I bet all of them knew he wouldn’t miss a competition unless he absolutely had to, at least the ones who cared._

_But… he just didn’t want to talk to anyone. Competing meant a lot to him, so I can only imagine how difficult it would have been for him to turn his back on all of it. Ah, it must have been so annoying to be stuck here like that, it makes my heart hurt just thinking about it! C’mon, you have to admit it must have been hard to give up on something you love, especially when it’s something like skating._

_Exactly! And then there were the people who didn’t care about him._

_Yeah, a bit. I like to think that Hasetsu has changed since then. At least, it has since I’ve been here. I can’t really tell you about before the last year or so, actually. But our Yuki-onna was different by virtue of being a Yuki-onna! I guess the myths can’t get everything right, even when they try to, and there’s no way to tell if our Yuki-onna was really different from any others. He was the one who really changed things around here though, made people stop looking to others as the cause of their problems._


	2. the waves

_It took a long time for people to change though. And the ice spirit probably could have tried to get people to understand what he was going through before but, well, he didn’t really care what they thought. Not even when they gave him nasty looks in the streets or said things about him._

_Of course, he should have! It wasn’t right that he just let them say whatever they wanted and then they never really regretted it or they moved away before they could-_

_Heh, right. Sorry, I didn’t mean to blow up like that._

* * *

There is nothing but silence. 

Nothing but the silence of the ice, the empty bleachers along one wall of the rink, and him standing in the middle of it all, the lights long since dimmed. Dim light from the street lamps comes in through the windows, adding to the aura of peace. The only people who can interrupt him here are long since asleep, unaware that he’s putting his key to good use. 

After taking the feeling in for a few moments longer, Yuuri steps out onto the ice and lets go of all restraint. His skates glide along the surface, slowly at first as he does a few easy laps. 

But Yuuri can feel the cold on his lips, knows that his thin t-shirt is only for show as the temperature continues to drop despite it being late spring. If he concentrates, he can shift the ice beneath him, can use it to steady him or give him momentum as he pleases. Not that he dares, not even when he stops holding back. 

The first steps are simple. They feel a bit like dancing, like he could achieve the same effect if he took off his skates and moved across the ice with bare feet. They feel like a young man who has hope for the future, who knows exactly what he wants and how he wants to take it. They feel like him, fifteen years past. Yuuri grips onto that innocence like it’s a life ring tugging him back to shore. 

But then the music, the narrative shifts. 

Yuuri launches himself into a jump and doesn’t land it, tumbling towards the boards even as he’s pushing himself back up to his feet. This is the exciting bit, the climax in his program and he pretends that his audience knows it, knows how much he loves each shift of his weight. 

They don’t respond, the silence of the rink echoing back at him. The wrongness of that catches him by surprise, just as it always does, because it feels like there’s something missing. Something important, something else to drive him forwards other than his own innate unwillingness to give up this feeling. That thing is impossible to reach however, whatever it is. 

Ignoring his imaginary audience, ignoring his own hesitation, Yuuri continues onwards, letting the narrative shift once more. No longer is he doing this for any of them, no longer is he acting for anyone other than himself and because of that, there are no consequences. Nothing to prevent him from pulling into a spin, from launching into a triple axel with only the smallest break in between. 

It works. Yuuri doesn’t falter, doesn’t fall to the ice as he was half-expecting he would. And who would be around to see it if he did? 

But then that feeling turns inwards and his laps around rink keeping getting smaller and smaller. What is the point in acting for himself when all he gets out of it is his own self-satisfaction? Why not just help Mari with Yu-topia or Yuuko and Takeshi with Ice Castle? 

Because of this, Yuuri reminds himself as he’s pulled into yet another spin, one leg stretched out on the ice and his hands pressed to his chest. He continues because this feeling trumps the whispers, the rumours, the story of a boy who unwittingly brought a long winter to Hasetsu and continues to live on the mountainside with only the snow to keep him company. 

He’s breathing heavily when he slows. 

The silence continues to greet him, silently reminding him that like this, there’s no way for him to move forward. Nothing to move forward to.

* * *

_Oops, I got a bit sidetracked there, didn’t I? You want to know more about the figure skater, not about the ice spirit. I mean, you’re going to have to sit through the parts about the ice spirit too because they’re my favourite and well, it’s all connected anyways. The skater probably wouldn’t have been as interested in the ice spirit if it weren’t for his background. Or his a lot of things. They’re really - ahhh, please pretend I didn’t say anything like that, got it? I can’t spoil it._

_Huh?_

_You don’t actually mind listening to me ramble on like this? Heh, thanks! I didn’t think you were much more than a drunk victim to my stories but I guess I’ll have to try even harder now that I know better._

_Now, where was I? Right. The figure skater. I guess this was where things really started to pick up for the ice spirit. Not right away, of course. You can’t have a good ghost story without suspense. What - oh, yeah, you’re right. This isn’t much of a ghost story to begin with._

* * *

Hasetsu is different than Victor thought it would be. 

This is likely because he was thinking about it in terms of the tale Lilia’s friend told him but it makes walking through the busy streets an odd experience. People are talking to each other in the fast-paced syllables he’s been hearing since he flew into Tokyo and they seem busy, buying groceries or on their way home from work. Definitely not the setting of the ghost story. 

A shame but it’s not enough to send Victor packing, at least not yet. There could be more things lying in wait to surprise him still and he just hasn’t had the opportunity to stumble upon them. It’s only been a couple hours, after all. 

Besides, Makkachin is enjoying it so far, a bundle of energy at his side. 

His gaze floats over his surroundings and stop on a large building just down the street, and Victor stops in place. An ice rink. Of course they have an ice rink here. It’s just that he never stopped to consider a rink in relation to himself, even though the entire reason he came was to be inspired. And now there’s his opportunity hardly a minute’s walk away, luck shining down upon him. 

Victor is walking down the street before he can even think twice about it, gaze watching the front door. A small family leaves, the siblings pushing and shoving as their family attempts to calm them down. They walk past a bike rack while they head in the opposite direction and after a moment’s contemplation, he pulls the leash from his pocket. 

“You’ll be good, won’t you, Makkachin?” he murmurs. 

There’s a distinctive whine as Victor stops to tie Makkachin to the bike rack and he only stops to pat his head before heading inside. This should only take a couple minutes at the most and this doesn’t seem like the type of town that would go kidnapping innocent poodles while their owner is away. 

The rink - Ice Castle, as the sign helpfully informs him - opens up to a small entrance area and a desk with rows of skates behind it. Nowhere near as grand as the rink he’s used to but perhaps that’s a good thing as well. 

New is the look he’s going for these days. 

It takes a couple minutes for the woman behind the desk to notice him but she smiles when she does and sets off into rapid Japanese. A greeting, most likely, except that she carries on a bit too long for it to be just a greeting. Maybe something about the rink or hours, given their situation. 

“I’m sorry,” Victor tries once she finishes, “Is there any chance you know English?” 

Her face falls but before he even has the chance to apologize, she laughs and nods. “You’re lucky I’ve kept my English up for a friend. I just said that you’ll have to stop by another time if you want to use the rink because we just closed for the day.” 

A shame. 

Not a huge one, however. Makkachin is still waiting for him outside, after all, and thus anything more than looking at the rink was already not an option. If he does decide to stick around though, it’ll be a good idea to know a bit more. Being in Japan shouldn’t be an excuse to slack on his training, even if just the thought of doing a toe loop frustrates him. 

Just as he’s about to say goodbye though, a door off to the side opens and three teenage girls walk out, still wearing their skates. One freezes before the rest but a rushed whisper is enough to gain their attention, their gazes glued to him as if he might disappear if they just blink. Fans, then. Victor smiles to himself while they hurry over. It is one thing to know that they occasionally show broadcasts of his skating overseas and yet another to meet someone who only knows him through that medium. 

Not necessarily a bad thing but a strange one, nonetheless. 

“Mom,” that first girl starts and the rest of what she says is in Japanese, much to his disappointment. But even he isn’t oblivious enough to miss his own name repeated several times over. 

“Victor Nikiforov?” the woman says, frowning. 

She glances over at him and Victor can see the exact moment she clues into his identity, recognition slowly spreading across her face. There are enough similarities between her and the three girls to tell that they’re related, likely mother and daughters. The age fits with the wrinkles forming in the corners of the mother’s eyes, more laugh lines than anything else. 

A smile is all it takes for that recognition to turn into a rapid flush. This time it’s a different girl who talks in sharp, rushed syllables, an arrogant tint to her voice. It’s difficult to tell whether or not she knows he can’t understand her but her eyes flicker back towards him once or twice, as if expecting him to confirm something. Victor says nothing, his expression unfaltering, instead glad that some things are being clarified for him.

“I’m sorry,” she says, her daughters nodding amongst themselves. “Apparently I’m not as caught up on figure skating as I thought I was. I’m Yuuko Nishigori, by way. My husband and I own Ice Castle.” 

Victor laughs lightly. “No need to worry, it seems your daughters are more than caught up for you.”

“Do you know how long you’re going to be staying in Hasetsu?” 

“Not yet.” There is a brief twist to his lips that he can’t quite manage to hold back, just a shade off a grimace. “I’ve been looking for something to inspire me. And this seemed as good a place to start as any.”

Yuuko beams at him, the weight of her years fading right in front of him. For a moment, Victor swears he can see exactly what she looked like ten years ago, a grin on her face as she greeted new and old skaters alike. “Well, there’s plenty of inspiration to be found around here. And if you ever need a place to skate, then we’ll be open. Ice Castle is usually closed to the public in the evening but a friend of ours will be here and I doubt he’ll mind a bit of company.” 

“A family friend?” he asks.

The question is never answered because one of the girls starts talking again, though he can’t quite tell if she’s one who spoke before. They are all incredibly similar, even with their hair purposely pulled into different hairstyles. That consideration ceases to matter anyways because the other two pitch in with their own opinions. 

It is difficult. 

Only because Victor is torn between his lack of understanding and his nostalgia at being a teenager. Even beyond his own feelings, it is difficult to tell whether they’re getting along or arguing or if the distinction even matters to them. 

Interesting is likely the word he’s looking for in this situation. It’s still too early to tell if he’s going to stay or not though but he feels as if this ice rink will be the deciding factor in whether he will or not. Just as the ice and his skating are always his driving factors behind doing much of anything. At least until recently. Because recently all he can think of is attempting to chase away this feeling that something is missing. 

The conversation comes to a sudden halt as Yuuko gives all three of them a stern look and they blanch before rushing towards the door. A wave is directed towards him and Victor waves back, deciding it’s best to ignore the bulky camera abruptly pointed at him.

It isn’t as if the pictures can magically make their way back to Yakov. 

“I’m sorry about that,” Yuuko offers with a sigh. “They’re getting older and, well, they’ve always tended to get a bit ahead of themselves, ever since they were little. You know how it is. I just wish I could go back in time and have them stay eight years old forever.” 

Victor manages to smile politely. “I don’t. But let me know if you’re successful. Many would love to get their hands on technology like that.” 

“But not you?” 

A shrug is the only thing he offers despite knowing he should give a proper answer. Going back in time would make life much easier, and Victor knows many people who have a specific moment in mind when they say such things. The only direction he’s ever wanted to go in is forwards though. Too many people live in the past, in his opinion, not realizing how far they’ve come in the meantime. 

Yuuko likely isn’t about to appreciate such a response however. Most people don’t, whether they’re strangers or people Victor has known his entire life. 

The subject is dropped with a glance back at the door the triplets came out of, just in time for a young woman and her daughter to leave. “Do you think you’ll stop by then?” 

Will he stay for a while, is what Victor hears and it doesn’t seem as if he’s too far off the mark. But he already knows the answer, had likely known it the moment Minako told him that story in the back of a bar in Moscow. Lilia had sighed and told him she was simply drinking too much again but- 

Well, that but has been tugging at the back of his mind ever since. 

“I might,” he says and it feels like the right decision. “But only if you have a good recommendation for a place to stay.” 

Yuuko laughs. “I happen to have one. There’s a hot springs resort nearby called Yu-topia. They have the best pork cutlet bowls and they often take people in for a few months at a time. No promises on a discount though.” 

“I’ll take a look then.” 

They exchange a friendly smile and Victor feels triumph as he leaves. A rink and a place to stay is far more than he expected to achieve here but if the friend Yuuko mentioned is really a figure skater as well then he isn’t surprised. The sport often feel like its own family. 

The cold greets him with a gust of wind to the face and Victor relaxes. Minako warned him about the cold but he brushed it off easily enough, hardly paying it a second thought. At least not until now. Spring doesn’t usually bring a chill to his cheeks so easily but the temperature and Makkachin waiting patiently for him is enough to lift his mood even further. Things don’t usually fall into place so easily. 

Neither do they usually work against him, however, and Victor attributes it to a bit of good luck in the face of his own problems. Makkachin responds to his good mood with an excited wag of his tail and the leash is easily untied and tucked back into his pocket.

A walk will likely do the both of them a lot of good.

* * *

The hot springs are a lot nicer than Victor thought they would be. 

A woman greets him, her hair pulled back and her boredom clear for all to see, but she doesn’t blink an eye when he asks to stay for at least a month. Instead she replies in rough English to suggest she put a room on indefinite hold and have him pay on a weekly basis. The perfect solution. Makkachin’s presence doesn’t even pose an issue with her. 

Not going to the rink that night is an easy decision when he’s faced with the opportunity to soak in the hot springs instead and the tension from travelling easily melts away. If only more places were set up like this. A great number of the skaters he knows would benefit from taking some time to soak and relax. 

The next day is spent wandering through the town. Most don’t speak English but neither do they have a problem with his clumsy attempts to order food, piecing it together with a wide smile. And the food itself is delicious. All freshly made, all the rich flavours he prefers. None of this guarantees that he’ll be able to find inspiration here but if he can’t find it here, he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to find it anywhere. 

The only thing left is evaluating the rink. 

By no means does he expect it to be perfect but his hopes have already been raised by everything else in this town. Besides, he can’t quite conflate the images of uneven ice and wobbly boards with Yuuko. She was as steady as she was bright, had seemed to pour her feelings into the place. 

She’s at the front desk when he enters the rink an hour or two after dinner, Makkachin back in his room. It takes her a moment notice him but she grins once she catches sight of him, motioning for him to come over. 

“Victor,” she says as he does just that. “I didn’t know if you were going to show up or not. Yuuri mentioned you got a room at Yu-topia though, so the odds were good!” 

Victor blinks, taken aback by the sudden name. “Yuuri?” 

Her smile wavers before coming back, full force. “Yeah, Yuuri. He’s the family friend I told you about yesterday. You’ll meet him in a minute or two but let’s show you the rink first.” 

Victor allows himself to be led into the side room the triplets came out of the day before when Yuuko steps out from the counter. It is only a room with benches for people to tie their skates and a wall full of old lockers, cleaned as if to pass as new. She waits patiently as he pulls his own skates from the bag and starts to lace them up, only offering him a key to one of the lockers if he decides to stick around. The answer is an easy agreement. 

What is more difficult is to force himself to turn critical once they enter the rink but the effort is for nothing anyways. 

Only because his attention is immediately captured by something else. 

Or rather, someone else. 

Someone who skates with such beauty that it leaves Victor breathless. Nor can he blink for that matter, caught in the strange feeling the man radiates through his performance. The skater moves out into a spread eagle and then jumps, somehow making Victor feels as if the distance between them is both nothing and insurmountable. Alone, this strange man and his captivating skating seem to weave a story about being alone. Gravity takes its course and the man doesn’t falter in his landing, though Victor can almost feel the force of it in his own joints. 

It wouldn’t matter whether there were fifty people out on the rink, Victor feels, for his attention would always be brought to this one skater. Any doubts about finding his inspiration here are shattered. His fingers are already itching for a collection of records to flip through, to find the perfect melody to match with this feeling. 

Then the curtain falls as the skater stops, arms held out as if he means to give himself away to something. 

Distance seems to close between them, eyes locked together and they both still, the boards pressed against Victor’s thighs. It is difficult to remember when he got this close. Were he anyone else, Victor would have looked away at this point, all too aware of the attention. But he isn’t someone else, and the urge he feels instead is to step out onto the ice and join this man. 

All good things must come to an end however. This particular end comes with the skater scrambling backwards, incapable of stopping himself from falling. Holding back a laugh is impossible, even after that emotional performance. 

Maybe because it is easier than it should be to put the flailing and the blushing together with that deep loneliness. 

“Yuuri’s been working on that piece for awhile now,” Yuuko comments, reminding him of her presence. 

Yuuri. 

The name suits him. What doesn’t make sense is that this is the first time Victor’s ever heard it, not in any of his competitions or even among the Japanese skaters he knows. That someone with this much talent is hidden away in this small town, instead of at the forefront of competitions just doesn’t make sense to him. 

Details fill in as Yuuri pushes himself back onto his feet and starts towards them. There’s a bit a flub on his sides but not much, the build of someone who spends most of his time on the ice. He holds himself awkwardly though. It makes him look like he’s drowning in the loose, sleeveless shirt he wears, not quite matching up to how gorgeous he is. It’s really quite striking. Victor knows that many of his competitors would kill for looks like that or at least for the young, vulnerable air to Yuuri. 

If Yuuri were to start competing now, he would likely get another seven or eight years out of it before skating became too much for his body. That’s already a good three than Victor has left in him. 

Rapid-fire Japanese begins as Yuuri reaches them, his gaze flickering between Victor and Yuuko. The words go right over his head. It matters little as Victor knows they aren’t meant for him to begin with but he smiles anyways. 

“Hello,” Victor begins, filling in the brief silence before Yuuko can respond. “I am Victor Nikiforov. It would be my pleasure to coach you.” 

“Wh-what?”

Ah. 

That is not exactly what Victor meant to say. But there is a plan already forming in his mind, an excuse to stay in this small town for a while longer at least. An excuse to see what other emotions Yuuri can pull to the surface. 

“I want to be your coach,” he repeats. 

Yuuri doesn’t seem to know what to do for a few good, long moments and then it looks as if he’s bitten into a lemon, mouth twisted into an odd frown. 

“No.”

* * *

_The ice spirit didn’t stick around after that. It only took him a couple minutes or so to take his skates off and then he was out the door before Victor could even hope to catch up. Heh, it’s difficult to picture that now. Well, I guess the ice spirit was surprised. And then the skater didn’t know any of the other stuff that was going on, probably didn’t even consider that he couldn’t compete._

_Oh._

_That wasn’t what you were asking. Jeez, why don’t you let me tell the story and I’ll explain why in a moment or two? And here I thought you wouldn’t be as grumpy now that you’ve stopped drinking so much._

_Uh-huh, of course. You’re definitely not embarrassed that I’ve seen through you! Don’t worry, I’m not planning on asking why you’re here. Feel free to have another drink though. It might help take your mind off the difficult things for a little while._


	3. of the sea

_Hey - you don’t have to drink it that fast! No, I’m not getting you another, at least not when you throw it back like that. The bar will run out of alcohol and then the manager will get angry at me for not cutting you off._

_Of course I care! I took the year off to come to Hasetsu but this job is the only reason I’ve been able to stick around so long._

_Yeah, yeah, I’ll keep going now._

* * *

Mari knows there’s something going on with him. It’s in the way she watches him when Yuuri ducks in through the back door, almost sprinting for his room instead of sitting in the main room for a while. Yuuko has probably told her a couple things too. As much as Yuuri trusts her, they’ve been keeping each other up to date on his life for years now. It’s easier just to accept that at this point. 

What he doesn’t know is what else they expect him to be doing. They know he can’t leave Hasetsu just as well as he does. That makes Victor’s appearance here a curse in disguise, and his offer to coach Yuuri even more so. 

Nevermind that Yuuri first stumbled across Victor’s performances in Yuuko’s living room, carefully rocking a baby Lutz in his arms. That he’d been in the middle of a rough patch. That he’d been utterly captivated by the figure skater posed in the middle of the ice. The program had been breathtaking, even through the grainy reception of the Nishigori’s television. Even the girls had noticed his reaction, not that they remember it. 

No, all of that ignores the realities of Victor’s appearance here. 

Victor won’t be able to change anything about Yuuri’s unfortunate situation, regardless of how much Yuuri admires his skating. And competing is impossible, so long as he’s constrained to Hasetsu. Yuuri has come to terms with that. At least, he thought he had. And then Victor had to go and ask to coach him. 

The truth is that this last week has left Yuuri exhausted with the need to push against the bars of his cage, to test them until they break and then accept the offer in full. Offers, more accurately, because Victor has extended the same request every evening this week. Right before they step out onto the rink and then no mention of it again until the next day. 

Having to reject him every day is more than enough to tilt his perception of the world. 

Having Victor ask every day leaves him questioning if he died at some point and if this is how he’s being tortured. 

If only Yuuri could climb into the hot springs for an hour or two. The warmth doesn’t do too much for him these days, but just soaking in the water would likely do wonders for his ability to think this through. Maybe even let him feel like he’s standing on solid ground again. But even going back there to help Mari clean makes his skin itch these days and their tiny bathtub, tucked away from the rest of the onsen, isn’t nearly as satisfying. 

Trying it still leaves him aching a bit more than usual the next day. 

Yuuri sighs and leans back against his window sill. The four walls of his bedroom stare back at him, oblivious to his emotional dilemma. A week. He’s somehow been sharing a rink with Victor Nikiforov for a week and the worst he’s managed is tripping over his own two feet. 

Other than the questions of coaching, it’s been something out of a dream. He’d never really gotten the opportunity to train with other people on his level. Just being around someone who can recognize the flaws in his skating is a novelty, even once he manages to look past him being Victor. 

The television only gives him so much and the small figure on the ice is often difficult to watch. Things like the sweat that gathers on the back of Victor’s neck once they’ve been training for an hour or so don’t come across. Neither does the way Victor brightens when he notices Yuuri watching him, the huge differences in the types of smiles he gives. Yuuri’s breath still catches a bit when Victor asks him questions. Everything from what his landing looked like and which jump would work best in the program to what Yuuri thinks he should have for dinner that night. When Yuuri fails to give a satisfactory answer, it’s simply brushed off with a laugh. 

Not being pressed for more information than he wants to give is a strange sensation. 

Strange enough that Yuuri doesn’t really know what to do about it. That’s just another reason to ward off these thoughts until he can come up with some sort of solution. 

Yuuri pushes himself off the window sill and prays Mari won’t be too angry if he steals her Neapolitan ice cream. Katsudon will always be his favourite comfort food but Yuuri never quite manages to make it as well as his parents do. And right now, the preparation feels as if it’s too much in comparison to scooping ice cream into a bowl and keeping it cold throughout the night. 

The halls are empty except for the soft sound of the radio echoing from the main room. Not one of the bands Mari likes but a news station, the words unintelligible, and that means she’s still awake. If he ignores her and steals her ice cream, the decision will come back to haunt him. Like the time he came back from training and found all of his furniture spread throughout the onsen. 

So, Yuuri lets the sound pull him into the main room. 

And immediately halts. 

“Mari,” he hisses, not moving so much as an inch. 

Mari, by virtue of being his older sister, glances up from her cigarette, follows his gaze, and then smirks, blowing out the smoke into a small cloud. It does nothing to affect the room’s other occupant. Or to stop their robe from slipping down from their shoulder. 

Handsome Russian men weren’t supposed to be sitting in his family’s onsen in the middle of the night, half asleep and listening to the radio. They weren’t supposed to be oblivious to Yuuri staring at the curve of their neck. Even further, they weren’t supposed to be Victor Nikiforov, the skater Yuuri has spent the years admiring. 

“Oh, hey, Yuuri,” Mari says in English and it shouldn’t be surprising that she’s not back her amusement. “You don’t usually leave your room at this time of night.” 

Victor startles and turns, giving Yuuri a glance at his curious expression before it melts into pleasant surprise. Any thoughts at disappearing back around the corner fade once those blue eyes settle on him. Mari’s smirk grows and at any other time, Yuuri would have scowled at her for it. 

His admiration of Victor’s skating had to eventually win in this struggle. Except that isn’t exactly what it feels like, not quite what pulls Yuuri into the room and makes him sit across from Victor. 

Instead, it’s the other part Yuuri’s been enjoying about having Victor in Hasetsu. Skating with someone who appreciates being out on the ice and pushes themselves further when they don’t believe their best is good enough. Axel had her first competition a couple years ago, yes. But once she found out that he couldn’t accompany her to competitions or coach her outside of Hasetsu, she’s been pushing Takeshi and Yuuko to get her a coach from out of town. 

Even then, fifteen year old aren’t interested in talking to him about the difference between axels and toe loops and flips. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” Yuuri offers as an explanation when he realizes Mari is still waiting for his response. 

Victor smiles at him when he glances across the table. “Neither could I, if you would believe it. Mari has been kind in keeping me company, though I didn’t realize you lived here as well.” 

“You didn’t?” Yuuri asks dryly. 

His face flushes briefly when he realizes how rude that sounded and Mari doesn’t bother to hold back a snort of laughter. To think Yuuri was worried that she was concerned about him. But Victor doesn’t seem to notice at least as he easily confirms that he didn’t, in fact, know that Yuuri lives at Yu-topia. When Yuuri looks over at Mari sitting beside him, she’s dutifully ignoring his gaze. 

Of course. 

Of course she would do this. The pieces come together easily enough. Yuuko will hide behind the flimsy excuse that she didn’t know Victor would stay at Yu-topia as well as train at the Ice Castle. Meanwhile, Mari will pretend she doesn’t know who Victor is. Both of them will keep up the pretense that they haven’t been talking to each other more and more often these days, especially now that the age difference between them feels smaller than ever. 

Still, Yuuri can’t bring himself to feel too angry at them. It isn’t some big conspiracy to get him to be someone he isn’t, just a wish for him to have friends outside of the four of them.

What he does feel in spades, however, is frustrated.

“I hope she’s been treating you alright then,” Yuuri mutters under his breath. 

Victor is far too quick to pick up on it. “She has. Though I am now curious as to why she’s been keeping quiet about having such a talented son.”

Son-

A laugh escapes before Yuuri can stop it. It should just be a small snort but then he sees the confusion in Victor’s face, sees Mari looking absolutely disgusted at the suggestion and he can’t stop. Yuuri drops his head onto the table and laughs and laughs, his sides aching with the effort.

* * *

_Why do you look so pissed off? They’re finally starting to get along! C’mon, tell me what the problem is._

_Huh?_

_Wait a moment._

_First, we don’t even know if your figure skater is the same guy that I’m talking about, remember? They could be two entirely different people. And even then, why shouldn’t be be friends with the ice spirit? Hey, don’t say stuff like that about him! He - the ice spirit is really passionate about what he loves and an amazing skater and he can totally take charge of a situation, no matter what you think._

_What do I know about skating? You don’t recognize me? I-_

_Leave._

_Please, just leave._

_No, I can’t deal with this right now. You should recognize me and I know you don’t and that I shouldn’t let it bother me this much because there’s no way you can remember everyone but please leave. I - I need some time to myself._

_Oh._

_I really thought I would feel better once he was gone._

* * *

This area has a strange affinity for snow. Victor isn’t entirely certain what to make of it, at least no more than he knows what to make of Yuuri. Late spring is quickly approaching now and there’s still a cold nip in the air when he wakes up in the mornings, the thought to keep a scarf on hand lingering in the back of his mind. 

Makkachin knows it as well. He doesn’t stay as close to Victor as he normally does on walks, anticipating the opportunity to play in the snow. Or jump into puddles. Just the thick, heavy clouds are enough to make his tail wag a bit more quickly than usual. 

They aren’t enough to turn Victor away. 

He has seen more than his fair share of storms throughout his life, enough that he can tell the difference between needing to brace for a few days of rain and an actual snow storm. This weekend will likely be the former. Not even enough to prevent him from dragging himself to the rink. It would probably be a good idea to buy an umbrella on his way back to Yu-topia though, just in case. 

There’s a wide stretch of grass when they turn the corner and Makkachin starts tugging at his leash, begging to go run around for as long as Victor will allow it. As if he knows Victor is incapable of saying no. Within moments, he is leaping around and sniffing at anything and everything he can find. Happier than Victor ever saw him back in Russia but he isn’t entirely certain which one of them that’s a reflection of. 

“She yours?” 

Victor half-turns towards the voice. “He, but yes.” 

“Gorgeous,” the older man offers, not quite tripping over his English. The crinkles in the corners of his eyes ease away when he glances towards Makkachin. “You’re the one everyone is talking about, are you not?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“You’re the one people are talking about. You know, you spend a lot of time at Ice Castle, rent a room at Yu-topia, are some sort of celebrity back home.” 

“I am,” Victor says, neutrally. 

With any hope, that will be enough to ward off any uncomfortable questions, even though the man’s frown is growing. There was no reason for him to be approached like this, especially not by someone without any appreciation for his work. But Victor can recognize the storm brewing in his eyes just as well as the one on the horizon, knows nothing short of an apocalypse would stop it now. 

Expressions like that should have no business in this town. The guarded darkness has already been directed towards him more times than he can count, a side effect of being a male figure skater. All Victor needs are a few words spat at his feet and the differences between Hasetsu and home will momentarily disappear in their entirety. 

“You should be careful about that man, Katsuki Yuuri, if you are going to stay here,” the older man settles on. 

Oh. 

Victor blinks away his surprise and pushes down the urge to laugh. This is about Yuuri. That really should not be as surprising as it is, now that Victor stops to think about it. Yuuri doesn’t go far from either Yu-topia or the Ice Castle. Yuuri who doesn’t talk to much of anyone in this town. 

“You don’t need to worry about me.” Victor smiles, brittle and fake, but the man nods and relaxes at the reassurance. “But thank you. I had no idea why Yuuri didn’t want to talk freely with me.” 

“Talk freely with you?” 

Victor’s smile widens. “Yes, he’s been warding off my attempts to talk to him. I thought it had something to do with me but you’ve kindly corrected me now.” 

“That’s not what-” 

“Makkachin!” 

Makkachin turns at his name and runs towards Victor in long, easy strides. None of his usual lagging behind in an attempt to get more time off-leash and Victor is grateful for the sudden cooperation. By the time the man attempts to talk to him again, Victor is already headed back down the street with Makkachin panting at his side. 

Some things should only come from the people of which they belong and Victor is wholeheartedly of the opinion that this is one of them.

* * *

_You came back._

_Why do you care if my eyes are red? I’m allowed to cry too, you know! It would be nice if you stopped looking at me like that though, it’s like you think I’m going to fall apart at the sound of your voice. I’m not going to do anything about it, it just hurt a bit._

_Yeah. Yeah, it hurt a lot._

_Did you really look me up?_

_Of course I wasn’t going to say anything! At first, I thought you knew and then it would have been so awkward if I brought it up, especially because it seemed like you didn’t want to talk about why you’re here. You not wanting to admit that we came here for the same reason just made sense. Ha, that makes me feel a bit better. You look like you ate a raw lemon._

_I’ll explain why I came to Hasetsu once I finish the story about the skater and the ice spirit. Yes, I’m going to keep calling them that! It’s part of the story!_

* * *

Sharing the rink is odd. 

It isn’t like Yuuri doesn’t do it. Takeshi or Yuuko join him if they can find the time and Axel has a block of her own time scheduled off in the afternoon. Not to mention he taught all of the triplets when they were younger. Only a real figure skater was good enough for them, they’d informed him. And then there’s the occasional, tense skating lesson when Takeshi wants to wow the local kids with spins and jumps. 

None of that is the same as sharing a rink with Victor. 

Yuuri thought he would get used to it but apparently that isn’t the case. Just today, he’s tripped over his own feet more times than he has since he was a kid. Not that it should be different from any other day. 

But it feels like he’s catching Victor’s eyes more often than usual. Not like the first few times they locked eyes on the ice when he’d hurriedly duck his head and pretend nothing had happened. It’s been awhile since he’s done that. Holding onto Victor Nikiforov, famous figure skater, is difficult after Yuuri has seen him wandering around the onsen with bad bed head. 

Instead it’s Victor the person who loves skating and his dog in equal measures, who smiles to placate everyone, who nearly falls asleep in the hot spring every night. Remembering he’s older than Victor is difficult sometimes. That’s disorientating in itself because normally Yuuri stops, compares himself to Yuuko or Takeshi or even Mari, and despairs over what should be happening to him. There should be laugh lines in the corners of his eyes, he should tire more easily, the occasional gray hair should grow on his head. 

All of that disappears when he talks to Victor. 

Yuuri grimaces as he botches another landing. The ice presses against his hip, almost shifting to help him back up to his feet. 

“Yuuri.” 

The sounds of his name catches him before he can take off again. There’s no longer any way to deny that Victor is watching him, a curious examination of his form. 

“You used to train to compete,” Victor says and it isn’t quite a question. 

Yuuri nods anyways. “That was a long time ago though.” 

“And you danced as cross-training.” 

“Ballet three times a week,” Yuuri confirms. “There’s a studio nearby if you want to check it out. I still stop by sometimes. The owner is a friend of mine, they would probably-”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Victor smiles at him and the force behind it almost makes him flail. “I was just wondering why you never actually competed.” 

The comment makes him stop but Victor has already started back into his own routine, oblivious to the questions he left Yuuri with. Things like that shouldn’t matter. And here he’d thought they were getting past the whole coaching thing now that they’ve started talking more often. Not a lot more but enough. 

Except apparently it isn’t. Not if Victor is attempting to comes up with reasons for something that no longer matters, probably even has his own assumption as to the whys. Performance anxiety, maybe, because that’s something Yuuri has grappled with more than most people he knows. Improper training is another option or maybe a sick family member or-

Or it’s stupid to come up with possible explanations for Victor’s behaviour. Yuuri knows why he couldn’t compete and that should be enough. Yet, he still skates over to the boards and leans against them until Victor finishes his routine and skates over, curiosity apparently unfulfilled.

“Were you incapable of giving up katsudon?” Victor asks easily. 

Yuuri’s head tips back, silently begging Victor to stop. “No.” 

“Were you injured?” 

“Not really.” 

“You were then?” 

“Not enough to affect my chances at competing.”

“Did a lover hold you back?” 

“What - no!”

“Hm.” 

The hum is enough for Yuuri to know that Victor doesn’t quite believe him. As if he’d needed the extra reminder on top of the way Victor is looking at him, somewhere between curious and desperate to dig further. As if the only reason he isn’t currently pressing for more information is because he expects Yuuri to come forward with it himself. 

“I’m telling the truth,” Yuuri says quietly. “It’s just - I couldn’t leave. Is that enough to satisfy your need to know everything about my life?” 

“Yuuri-” 

Victor already knows he’s gone too far then. 

Good. 

It would be easy enough to accept an apology but right now, it’s too much. Too much to stand here and listen to Victor awkwardly attempt to apologize without really knowing why. Too much to try to make up for his own faults in being incapable of talking about competing. 

Knowing he should apologize doesn’t mean Victor is entirely without fault though. Yuuri knows that, even as he holds that immediate break in Victor’s expression in mind while he crosses the rink, his skates scratching the rink. His eyes close. There isn’t any music but he can imagine it nonetheless, an imaginary beat echoing through him in time with his own heartbeat. Victor should have left the subject alone once he realized Yuuri was a bit sensitive about it. 

And what exactly is there to talk about? Even if Yuuri did want to discuss it, after years and years of bottling these things up because he knows his family won’t understand, he doesn’t quite have the words to explain it. Nothing but old stories and tales that don’t exactly match up with his reality. The intricacies of these stories often escape him, even without the problem of translating them into English for Victor. Then there are the things he’s only told Yuuko, pieces of himself that feel too personal to share. 

Out of everything he’s tried over the years, Victor is likely the last thing that would help him cross over the town limits. For all that Yuuri tells himself that there’s no point in trying anymore, he still finds himself out along the roads or in the forest or out on the water, pushing the boundaries of his existence. 

Up until someone finds him, curled up on the ground or in a boat as the effort becomes too much for him to handle. 

Without skating, Yuuri isn’t exactly certain what lengths he would go to. 

Without skating, there wouldn’t be anything left of himself. 

When he opens his eyes again, the world zooms back into focus. He’s in the middle of the rink, breathing heavily from the effort of the impromptu routine. And Victor leans against the boards, lips parted in surprise and gaze never straying away from Yuuri.

* * *

_Woah, I don’t think I’ve ever seen that look before._

_Are you finally starting to appreciate the ice spirit? I knew I could bring you around to my way of thinking if I just tried hard enough! What - no, it’s not anything like that, he - the ice spirit, I mean, he’s just really cool. I have even gotten to the cool part yet but just trust me when I say he’s really, really awesome._

_I’m not jumping ahead just because you want me to! The cool parts aren’t the same unless you know all of the other stuff too, like how he - no, ugh,_ stop that. _If you want to know what happens then you’re just going to have to listen to all of this first._

_Yes, it’s important!_


	4. i keep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, I'm sorry it took me so long to get this chapter out! Life has been a bit on the hectic side this past month or so. I'm hoping to post the next chapter within the next week or so to make up for that though, so look forward to that. Hope you enjoy!

_They got closer after that, actually. Not by a lot but they started talking about their training at the rink and helped point out what the other needed to work on. Then every now and then, the ice spirit’s sister would make him keep an eye on the onsen, and they’d almost always end up chatting with each other. It wasn’t all that much, really. Just a few conversations, here and there._

_But those conversations really meant a lot to both of them, I think. You don’t need to make that expression, they’re allowed to have long, meaningful conversations with each other. Well, those didn’t really happen until later on but still!_

* * *

A bowl of ramen is set down in front of him, smelling nothing short of delicious. It’s warm too, steam warming his face. Victor smiles over at the cook but he has already moved onto the next customer without a word. 

The wooden chopsticks he grabs are cheap but luckily, they don’t splinter in his hand when he splits them apart. Using them is easier now that he’s been practicing regularly. Enough that he might one day be able to show off his skills without too much embarrassment. Or at least that he might be able to eat with Yuuri without feeling like a clumsy fool, though his usual strategy of ordering randomly off the menu won’t work there. 

Learning Japanese has not yet become a priority for him, even with all the inconvenience it brings him. Victor can’t see it becoming a priority either, not unless he makes plans to stay here for the long term. Hellos and goodbyes will serve him perfectly well for now. Most of the townspeople just seem satisfied that he tries. 

They aren’t the ones who have grabbed his interest anyways. 

That spot belongs to Yuuri, as oblivious as he seems to that fact. If Victor could imprint Yuuri’s performances into his mind then he would do so over and over again. Not that it would change much. That bit of a program Victor witnessed still plays in his mind, even though it has been weeks since. It had been angry, yes, but also far lonelier than Victor would have assumed it could be, as if Yuuri hopes that just reaching out on the ice will change that. 

In a way, it has. Victor once believe that he just needed to push a bit harder. A small shove would make Yuuri see his potential and then Victor could cart him to St. Petersburg to be placed in Yakov and Lilia’s capable hands. The fantasy is a fond one, even if he no longer believes it’s likely to happen. 

It would have been difficult not to change his mind. Victor is painfully aware that he pushed a bit too far that evening, even if he is still plagued by the performance his questions prompted. Yuuri is not the one with the problem in this town though. One comment was all it took to make him start paying attention to how others treated Yuuri, to the awkward glances, the hostile glares. There was one couple that went through the trouble of crossing the street to avoid him. 

Most are better than some of those from his own home but the acts themselves are still hurtful. Enough, for example, to stop someone from going after what they want, whether it be a particular career or love. 

Victor desperately wants to change that. 

His gaze wanders back down to the steaming bowl in front of him, softening. There is still more than enough time to help Yuuri gain some belief in himself, especially because he has no particular plans on leaving yet. Hasetsu is truly the best place he could have picked for his impromptu vacation.

* * *

“So, have you heard?” 

Victor hums when he glances up, a smile already painted on his face. Yuuko beams back at him, just as she always does. It is a good look on her, one that only ever fades when words of her daughters’ mischief reaches her ears. 

This is likely about the oncoming storm he heard about over the radio. The third such storm they’ve had since he arrived in Hasetsu. Of course, most of that has been mild flurries that always manage to melt away by morning. It doesn’t seem likely that there will be an actual storm now, given the warm touch of late spring in the air. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be careful on my way to Yu-topia.” When Yuuko visibly hesitates, he adds, “Really. This is nothing compared to the storms we get back home.” 

“So, you haven’t heard then.”

Victors tugs on his gloves as he watches her. “No?” 

“I don’t know if I should be the one to tell you,” she admits with a laugh. “But the only other person who really could tell you is Yuuri and if you weren’t listening to the loudspeakers, then he certainly wasn’t. The girls will likely attempt to drag you back to Russian themselves once they hear the news.”

Russia? 

Admittedly, this is not the turn Victor expected this conversation to take. There is nothing in the way Yuuko watches him that gives away the surprise, simply her usual excitement as she lightly rocks back on her heels. 

“I had the radio turned to the sports channel in the office. Apparently, they’ve announced a new competition in Russia! They’re calling it the Moscow Trophy or the Prize of Moscow or something like that. I only caught the tail-end of the announcement.” 

Oh. 

It takes longer than it should for Victor to force his mouth back into a smile as wide and fake as the one he always gives reporters. His mind is still stuck somewhere between the words Russian and competition. Of course, he heard whispers of such a thing before he left, had fully intended on taking part. Just like he had intended on going to Nationals and the European Championships. 

Now, it feels strange. Not an offer or a possibility, not quite the direction he wishes to go in and yet, ignoring it entirely feels wrong. 

A new competition should be an exciting prospect for him. Maybe a phone call to Yakov can ensure he’s written down to compete. Or be taken off the list of possible candidates entirely. Victor doesn’t know which option he would pick when it came down to it. It is a good thing that phoning Russia isn’t a possibility anyways, given the difficulties in scheduling international calls. A letter would be better, so long as he can come up with a decision by the time he finishes writing it. 

Then Victor will just have to hope that Yakov doesn’t show up and drag him back home. 

“Skating is growing more and more popular these days,” he finally says, amicably. “Thank you for letting me know.” 

Her smile fades a bit but Victor can’t quite bring himself to care, not when she thought this would be an unconflicted announcement for him. What he does manage to do is give her an easy goodbye before heading for the door. 

Who exactly will be competing at this new event is easily the most pressing thing on his mind. If it is just the other Russian skaters, then the point will be moot. Another Nationals, only with one rule or qualification slightly different. But if others are there, such as Chris and Cao Bin, there is the slim chance that it will be a challenge. It could even push him to finish the programs he’s been working on. 

If anyone here was like Yakov or his rinkmates, they would tell him to stop being selfish. Or groan when he brings up not wanting to compete. They would tell him that if he hung on a bit tighter, tried a bit harder, he would find that nothing has really changed. Victor is not likely to forget the lack of understanding in those months leading up to him leaving anytime soon. 

“Hey.” 

Except they aren’t likely to understand his struggles in a few months from now either. Not when they see him as so full of drive and inspiration. 

“Victor.” 

Still, there must be some benefits-

“Hey!” 

Something collides into the back of his head, stopping Victor in his tracks. Ice water slides unpleasantly down the back of his neck, a shiver following it just in time for the snowball to fall to the ground. 

Victor forces another smile, ice not so much hiding beneath it as it is radiating out from every inch of his body, and turns towards the perpetrator. Yuuri stares back at him, expression wobbling between horror and shock. The best idea would be to ask what Yuuri wants from him. Maybe politely inquire about Yuuri’s opinion of the new competition. 

But Victor is also freezing and a regular conversation, even with this strangely captivating and yet frustrating man, can’t quite make up for that. 

His revenge is quickly enacted as he steps into place beside Yuuri, his arm landing roughly over Yuuri’s shoulders. It isn’t much, at least not until Victor begins to purposely shift his weight onto Yuuri. Pleasant is no way to describe his grin by now, but he can’t quite manage to stop. Doesn’t quite want to stop grinning, not even as the incoherent splutter of words that comes from Yuuri’s mouth. 

“Were you trying to tell me something?” Victor asks lowly, false pleasantness masking his words. “Was there something something you wanted to say, hm? Or was it just that you wanted to surprise me with a ball of ice to the head? I never took you for someone so cruel.” 

“I didn’t!” 

“Really? It felt as if you were aiming for me. Unless the snowball ended up in my hair some other way, but then it was awfully mean of you not to tell me that you can do magic, Yuuri!” 

More seemingly-random syllables attempt to piece together an apology but Victor just shifts more of his weight onto Yuuri, who struggles to stay upright. It would be all too simple to send them both to the ground. There can’t be more than a couple inches difference between then but it is enough to give Victor the advantage, even if Yuuri were fighting back. 

That would certainly be taking things too far though. More so, Victor realizes abruptly, because this is the first time they’ve touched in any tangible way. No friendly bumps of their shoulders, no shaking hands at their first meeting. 

This is more of a gift than he could have expected. Light, casual, and yet Victor doesn’t want it to end for anything. 

“Do you have something you want to say?” he asks, more genuine this time around. 

Yuuri fumbles again before blurting out a quick, “I’m sorry!” 

It seems all good things must come to an end then. 

With a light laugh, Victor pulls himself away and allows Yuuri to straighten back up to his full height. There’s a pout on his lips, almost cute enough to distract Victor from the cold trickle of ice water down his back. Almost. 

Then a snowflake lands on the tip of his nose, drawing his attention to the snow starting to fall around them in large, heavy flakes. There’s going to be a storm tonight, he remembers suddenly. A snowstorm of the sort this town sees a lot of. People will disappear into their homes for the weekend, venturing out only when they are certain it’s safe to allow their children to throw themselves in snowbanks. 

More than the potential danger, it is beautiful. The wind has yet to pick up, and so the snow brightens up the path down from the Ice Castle instead, lights up the bridge heading towards Yu-topia. 

“Lovely,” Victor exhales.

“What?” 

He blinks, glancing over at Yuuri. “The snow. It’s beautiful.” 

That should be more than enough to clear the confusion. Only that isn’t quite what happens when Yuuri bites at his bottom lip, turning ahead so that Victor can’t quite manage to glean the emotions from his expressive face. If Victor didn’t know any better, he would have thought that Yuuri had been oblivious to the snow until he pointed it out. Or perhaps more aptly, that Yuuri was somehow personally offended by the weather. 

“Right,” Yuuri says, hesitant. “You like the snow then?” 

“Is there something not to like about it?” Victor counters. 

“I… Could you tell me why you like it, first?” 

It is, admittedly, an odd request. Victor doesn’t believe that anyone has ever even thought to ask him why he enjoys the snow, at least not out of a place of malice. Yuuri has never come across as a summer person to him. And more odd is how Yuuri refuses to look at him, his gaze glued forward even as they stand in place. 

Something has been closed off from him. No, not closed off. It is a good thing Victor has no problem in fulfilling the request because it feels like he unknowingly prodded at a vulnerable spot. 

“For one, as I mentioned, it is beautiful.” Yuuri jolts out of that odd place and looks enraptured before Victor really begins to explain. “It is as if the world wears a soft blanket of water and ice to protect it from everything else. Yet, it still manages to make the world even brighter than the sun does, for the sun can be hidden behind thick clouds while the only thing that stops the snow is the change of the - Yuuri, are you alright?” 

Yuuri quickly nods but he is also wiping away what Victor expects are tears and when he finally looks up, his smile falters. “I’m fine. I - am, really. It’s just that nobody’s ever put it like that before.” 

It is as if they are having two entirely different conversations. 

Victor believes he’s getting the hang of it though. The only plausible reason for Yuuri to get so emotional about snow of all things, is that it is some sort of stand-in for Yuuri himself. It matches with the complicated way Yuuri holds himself, vulnerable and yet at a distance. 

Pushing for more information won’t help and neither will questioning the metaphor. If Yuuri needs to see himself as the weather in order to work through his poor self image, then Victor is more than willing to go along with it. Anything to get Yuuri to see that he is more than capable of stunning the rest of the world, that he has already captured all of Victor’s attention. That Victor already struggles with not reaching across to gently brush the snowflakes from his eyelashes. Victor swallows, aware that thought is not about to leave him anytime soon. 

“Perhaps they should have,” he says.

Yuuri smiles softly at him, making his heart catch in his throat. “I don’t think most people think like you do, Victor.” 

“They should.” The firmly spoken words make Yuuri flush and Victor can’t help the bit of satisfaction he feels at knowing they are on the same level. “But for the time being, shall we go home?”

* * *

_I’m not exaggerating!_

_No, really. They were - Everyone in Hasetsu knows how close the ice spirit and the figure skater were to each other, how they helped each other when no one else could. Even more than that, they’ve all accepted that their relationship went far beyond friendship! If they could have gotten married, then I think they would have._

_Don’t look at me like that! They’re a beautiful example of how two people can fall in love with each other, despite what everyone else around them thinks. I wish I could have the ice spirit’s sensuality or least someone who looks at me the way the spirit looks at the skater. Ah, of course I’ve never actually seen it for myself but you can just see the type of relationship they had. Well, maybe that’s impossible. It’s so unique and they’re so amazing for each other and-_

_Okay, maybe there could be other relationships like theirs. But their bond is special, and I won’t hear anything else about it._

* * *

The topic of snow is still on Yuuri’s mind. 

It’s a bit silly. Victor cannot have missed the way Yuuri keeps looking over at him though, and he can only hope that Victor hasn’t connected it to that conversation. Only not even Victor’s skating can distract him from that description. That is almost terrifying by itself. 

But it is not as terrifying as being a protector. A beautiful, silent protector that brightens the world around him. Yuuri had been moments away from telling Victor how the snow and the cold is such an integral part of who he is. How sometimes he can line up the storms to when he starts thinking too much. How the snow can coat his hands in the middle of summer if he feels a bit too warm. There are a million other things as well, things he hardly thinks about until he remembers that they don’t happen to most people. Not even Yuuko knows all of it, though Yuuri hasn’t withheld anything on purpose. 

The words never came out, not during their walk home or later. It would be strange to say anything now anyways. Yuuri keeps thinking about saying something in context of that conversation but leading into something like that with something Victor said to him a month ago would be weird. Even if telling Victor that he isn’t taking his step sequences seriously enough has become second nature. Even if Victor has stopped pushing him to find a coach.

Yuuri yelps at the sudden pressure on top of his head, the bowl in his hands falling into the sink. It clatters loudly and lukewarm water goes everywhere, soaking most of his shirt. 

“Mari!” 

She snickers at him, even as she removes her hand. “You never call me Mari-neechan anymore.” 

“Should I?”

“It’s a sign of respect for our older, wiser sister.” 

“Whatever you say, _Mari-neechan_.” Yuuri rolls his eyes, picking up his bowl again. He rushes to rinse it off when he realizes it isn’t about to get any cleaner, feeling a twinge of guilt. Only when he turns to grab the towel, Mari is still standing there. “Is something wrong?” 

It takes her longer than it should to compose herself, her lips twitching even though she doesn’t quite manage to look him in the eye. Only then does Yuuri notice the lack of dishes in her own hands. “Any chance you can keep an eye on this place tonight? I know you don’t like cleaning up when it’s warm out but I’ll make it up to you.”

“You won’t be here?” he asks as he puts his bowl away.

The last time Mari took a night off had to have been years ago. Somewhere around the time her friends started getting married and having children, sometime around when his parents realized Mari wasn’t going out of her way to search for those things herself. 

She knows it too, if he goes by the way she refuses to meet his gaze head-on. There is something going on here and so Yuuri takes half a step back to get a better look at her. If she was starting to get sick, she would have just said so. Besides, there is no telltale lack of colour to her cheeks. If anything, it looks like she is more dressed up than-

Oh.

Yuuri grins at her. “Do I know them at least?” 

“He is none of your business, squirt. Besides, it’s only dinner. The rest of the night is just to figure out whether or not I want there to be a second date,” Mari retorts. 

Her puffed-up chest and scowl would have managed to scare him off when he was younger but now Yuuri only laughs. He knows how lonely Mari can get. It was better back when their parents lived here, back before they retired to a small house on the other side of town, time making their joints creak but happy.

This is no different than if Yuuri asked to be left alone for a couple day and so he already knows that he’s going to agree. Mari would do it for him without question. Maybe with a bit of teasing about sulking in his room she would. Even if it’s to disappear from town almost entirely, when he feels the borders press in around him. Yuuri is more than capable of dealing with Yu-topia for a night. 

“You better make me katsudon,” he says instead, because Mari is still his older sister. “I don’t know if I’ll make it through the night otherwise.” 

Mari groans. “What’s with you and katsudon? If you weren’t,” she gestures towards him, the reference explicit without her saying it, “I swear you would be twenty kilos heavier.” 

“And every kilo would be worth it.” 

That manages to get a short laugh out of her. “You’ll be alright, though? I know cleaning the hot spring gets a bit much for you sometimes.” 

“I’ll be fine,” Yuuri says. 

There is no way he won’t be fine. 

Difficult is not as much of an exaggeration as he’d like but it won’t be the first time he’s done it. Something always happens every year, whether it’s an emergency or someone get a cold or things just get a bit too busy. Cleaning the hot springs in the heat just isn’t very pleasant, but so long as he has a cold shower afterwards, he’ll manage. And it will be worth it if Mari goes out and enjoys herself for a few hours. 

When Yuuri’s smile doesn’t falter, Mari sighs and turns back towards the door. “You know, I could always get okaa-san to come help out for a few hours if you don’t think you can handle it.” 

“Of course I can it!” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“I can,” he retorts. 

Mari smirks at him over her shoulder and very purposely doesn’t respond as she goes back out into the dining room. It’s only once she’s gone that Yuuri goes back to washing his dishes. Hopefully this will be good for her.

* * *

The evening goes by smoothly. Summers usually aren’t as busy as the winter season is and Yuuri can feel that today. 

Victor is really the only problem. No, not a problem. It isn’t his fault that Yuuri can’t focus when he pouts about being alone at Ice Castle during dinner, sprouting the occasional comment of how skating with Yuuri is a lot less lonely. The only person Yuuri has to blame is himself for wanting to take the comments as something more than Victor wanting company. It doesn’t help his delusions that Victor’s gaze stays on him throughout the evening, that the seat across from him stays full even once Victor finishes his meal. 

At least Yuuri can appreciate how much easier it has become to exist around Victor. Sometimes he thinks it’s even easier than being around other people. 

But he doesn’t have more than a few minutes to eat. There is too much food to cook, too many dishes to wash, too many floors to wash in preparation for the weekend. The worst part is how some of the customers eye his bare arms, oblivious to how sweltering the room feels to him. Some of them might not come back. Yuuri tries his best to be pleasant to them anyways, even the ones who will come back because they’ve been doing so for years. Nothing he does will make them change their mind about him. 

By the time Yuuri reaches the men’s side of hot spring, a bucket and mop in hand, his head is throbbing. Too many people in too little time. It’s a wonder that Mari manages to do this by herself everyday. 

Only the hot spring isn’t empty yet, and Yuuri is careful not to look at the person lounging on the other side of the warm pool. “Excuse me,” he mutters. 

The customer glances up. 

Yuuri does a double-take. 

“Ah, Yuuri!” Victor pushes himself upwards in the water. His smile is wider than normal, as if it can’t quite be contained by his face. “You missed so much today. That spin I was having troubles with, I performed it nearly perfectly today. It is just as tight and compelling as I wanted it to be.” 

Yuuri’s lips quirk into a small smile as he sets the bucket down. “And then you had troubles pulling out of it because you were so excited?” 

The excitement freezes on Victor’s face. 

“That’s the part you’ve really been having troubles with,” Yuuri offers in explanation. “But don’t you ever get tired of Mari telling you not to spend so much time in the hot spring?” 

“She gave up months ago,” Victor says faintly. 

Of course she had. 

Yuuri rolls his eyes at his absent sister and gets to mopping the stone floor. His shoulders ache from the effort but there is something satisfying about watching the dirt from the day be washed away. Besides, if he can get this done, then the only thing Mari will need to do in the morning is clean the woman’s side. 

It isn’t as if he’s unaware of Victor watching him attempt to focus on the quick, rhythmic motion of the mop. Yuuri is not that oblivious to other people, and especially not to Victor. If he looks over, he’ll see Victor’s intense expression. Which only gives him all the more reason not to look over. He’s seen it enough to know it looks like Victor is working on a difficult puzzle, like he’s attempting to differentiate between pieces that are just slightly different shades of blue. 

This happens sometimes. He’ll say something and then Victor will go strangely quiet with that look on his face. It reminds him of their discussion about the snow a bit. 

But that could be because it is so warm in here. 

Steam always rises from the water, especially in the already sticky heat of summer. A cool shower is looking better and better by the minute, and Yuuri starts to move a bit faster at the reminder. 

“Ah, Yuuri, watch-” 

He startles, turning towards Victor. 

All Yuuri gets is a glimpse of Victor before his foot slides on the soapy ground, the mop clattering down as he fails to catch his balance. 

Then all he can comprehend is the heat pressing in around him, thick and suffocating. It is a vice squeezing him and the part of himself Yuuri tries not to acknowledge reacts immediately. The water around him cools briefly and he attempts to push himself up, up and out, but it doesn’t last long enough. It doesn’t work. It couldn’t have because the respite disappears, leaving him only with the heat as dots start to fill his vision.

* * *

_Huh?_

_Are you okay? I already told you, nobody’s going to die! So, you don’t need to-_

_Oh, well, if you have to go then I guess I’ll just have to tell you the rest of the story the next time you’re here. Ah, I’m already excited! Heh, you’re excited too, aren’t you? It’s cute._

_You couldn’t pay me to stop saying stuff like that! It doesn’t matter how many beer cans you throw at me either, for that matter. I’m not going to start holding myself back just because you came into the picture, no matter what anyone thinks! Now, go call your grandpa and tell him that I say hi._

_What-_

_Please?_

_Aw, come on!_


	5. coming back

_Hey, how was your grandfather?_

_That’s great! Do you think he’ll come out here to visit you? I think everyone here would really like to meet him. They know how much he means to you._

_...Oh, I didn’t know. Really! You don’t have look so dubious, you know? If I were him, I would have come to all of your competitions and cheered you on, even if I had health problems. Although I guess he would have been there if he could have been too._

_What does that have anything to do with it? Even if he wasn’t physically able to be there, it’s obvious that he’s supported you this entire time and made sure that you know people believe in you. Just like how I’ll definitely cheer you on at competitions from now on! I didn’t know you before, not really, so I never wished you good luck but you won’t be able to stop me next time._

* * *

“Ah, Yuuri, watch-” 

Victor winces as Yuuri slips on the soapy section of the floor. The way he flails, his hands reaching out for something to grab onto, is almost as impressive as the splash he makes when he lands in the water. 

There is no sign of laughter as he slowly lifts his hand to wipe the water from his face. Victor braces himself for awkward sputtering with water dripping from Yuuri’s clothes as he pushes himself up, possibly without his glasses. One of them might have to go fishing for them through the hot spring. Only Yuuri doesn’t back through the surface. 

“-out,” he finishes with a soft exhale. 

That’s when the splashing starts. 

His breath catches as a flash of cold overtakes him but it’s gone as soon as he notices it, nothing more than a figment of his imagination. A limb breaks through the surface and then Yuuri goes entirely limp. 

For long, precious moments, all Victor can do is stare. There’s a flush along the back of his neck. The temperature rises with each breath, his cheeks flushed with him. This doesn’t make any sense, not in any way he can comprehend. The water is only a few feet deep and certainly not deep enough for Yuuri to be incapable of lifting himself back up again. 

Sense matters little when Yuuri is in danger though and Victor launches into action. He’s slow in the water and Yuuri almost slips out his grasp. Lifting Yuuri is not the problem so much as attempting to step out of the hot springs with him but he eventually manages it. Adrenaline is likely the only reason he manages it and he can feel his breath coming more quickly than it should. 

His knees press into the stone floor as he sets Yuuri down. There is no gentle flutter of Yuuri’s eyelashes or anything else to tell Victor that he’s even conscious. Victor only knows he’s alive from the deep, gasping breaths he takes. He reaches down to touch Yuuri’s forehead and can feel the warm, clammy tint to his skin. It’s wrong. Everything around Yuuri has always been cold. Certainly not in terms of personality but more like he radiated the cold like most people radiated warmth, even after being out on the ice rink all afternoon. 

Something is wrong, something that Victor doesn’t know how to deal with. Mari would know but she isn’t here right now and attempting to track her down will only leave Yuuri here alone. 

“Yuuri,” he says, the name echoing between them, “Tell me what to do.” 

There’s no response, not even a flicker of warm brown eyes to assure him that everything is going to be alright. It makes him want to shout and beg for answers that clearly not coming. 

Victor stares down at Yuuri, unblinking. He’s too warm, his skin flushed from what has to be more than just the hot springs, and so Victor can’t keep them here. Not when the steam from the water is hot and sticky to him, which means it has to be even worse for Yuuri. He has to get him out of here. Preferably not naked either, although Victor doesn’t personally care about his lack of clothes if it means getting Yuuri to safety. 

He lets out a low breath before pulling his hand away. “Please don’t get into anymore trouble while I’m gone, Yuuri.” 

Never has Victor moved so quickly in his life. His feet slide across the floor as he reaches for the sliding door. There’s a robe hanging over one of the stools there, not yet properly put away, and never has he been so grateful for the mess. He shrugs it on over his shoulders, haphazardly tying it together. 

What worries him more is the way his heart beats against the inside of his ribcage, as if attempting to break free. It doesn’t slow, not even as he turns and stumbles back towards the spring or when he gathers Yuuri up into his arms. There is a clear edge of panic as he carries Yuuri through Yu-topia. Victor can feel it in the way his arms attempt to tremble, in the way the back of his eyes sting even as he attempts not to look down at the way Yuuri’s head hangs over his arm. 

Accidents have happened before, both to him and to those around him. Those were things Victor had been able to reason himself into understanding. A sprained ankle was the cause of a failed jump or a broken wrist from colliding with someone else on the ice. That wasn’t something he could do now. 

A bark interrupts his thoughts, just in time for him to realize that the door he’s standing in front of his own bedroom. It will have to do for now, if only because Yuuri is always so nervous about letting other people into his room. Victor shifts Yuuri’s weight and barely manages not to drop him as he opens the door. Makkachin is sitting right by the bed when he steps inside, his whines about a lack of attention stopping almost immediately. 

Victor forces a smile at his beloved, intelligent dog as he sets Yuuri down on top of his bed. 

It only takes a few moments of staring at Yuuri before his fingers start to itch with the need to do something. His room is still too hot. It isn’t as bad as the hot spring was but it’s still higher than he feels like it should be. Higher than what Yuuri must be comfortable with. Victor reaches for the window, swearing under his breath when the latch gets stuck.

“Victor.” 

His hands falter before he finally opens it, pushing it as wide open as it will go. 

“Victor,” Yuuri says softly. 

Victor takes in a deep breath before he finally looks down. 

Yuuri stares back at him, blinking at something over Victor’s shoulder. The smile he attempts falls short but it doesn’t stop Victor from lowering himself onto the edge of the bed. 

“Please tell me what’s wrong,” Victor begs. The need to shout at something has vanished entirely with Yuuri looking at him like that. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.” 

Yuuri’s gaze flickers up towards the ceiling, hesitant. There’s something here that makes him not want to tell Victor but even now, he doesn’t want to push. Yuuri takes in a deep breath and his eyes close, though Victor can’t tell whether it’s from pain or something else. 

“Call Yuuko.”

* * *

Victor sets down his bag by the bedroom door. There’s no point in announcing himself if Yuuri’s closed eyes and the steady rise and fall of his chest are anything to go on. The chair by the bed creaks slightly as Victor sits down. Seeing Yuuri sleeping, almost peacefully, is as much of a comfort to him as Makkachin is, his dog shifting to curl up at his feet. 

Going to train had been near torture. Even Yuuko’s eager encouragements hadn’t been enough to let him forget that he was on the ice alone, just like he had been every other day these past couple weeks. It’s only because Yuuri asked a pointed question about how his training was going that he even bothered to keep going. Victor lost count of how many jumps he flubbed, both on the landing and the take-off. 

The last time his skating had been so uninspired was before he left Russia. Nothing about his skating feels like it’s drawing the same passion, like it would captivate an audience. Victor sighs and slumps against the back of the chair. Nobody would have been inspired by any performance he gave right now, and even having Yuuko there had felt like a failure on his part. There was simply something about having Yuuri on the rink beside him that made his skating inherently better, made him remember the reason he first started to compete. 

He tears his gaze away from Yuuri and looks at the bedroom walls. Framed photos cover almost all the walls and most of them are admittedly of himself. Some couldn’t even be bought in Japan itself, the text in the corner written in the alphabet Cyrillic. It had taken his breath away when he first saw them, most of all the more personal black and white photo of Yuuri after a competition with a heavy gold medal around his neck as he grins at the person taking the photo. 

They would feel smooth underneath his fingers. Victor knows this because he has already paced the length of the room more times than he can count. Seeing this room has been like taking a glimpse into a part of Yuuri that had been otherwise closed off to him. If only seeing it had been on Yuuri’s own terms instead of Victor coming in to keep watch over him. 

A light knock on the door grabs his attention before it inches open, Mari shifting to lean against the doorframe. She looks down at them with the same calm, steady gaze that she approaches most everything with. The frantic, wide-eyed panic that she showed when she found out what happened still haunts Victor when he lies in bed at night, trying to put Yuuri’s condition out of his mind. 

The only good thing to have come out of this is the visits from Yuuri’s parents. They might not be able to understand each other but Victor can clearly see how much they care. 

“He’s sleeping?” Mari asks.

“Right now, yes. He was awake when I left this morning.” Neither of them mention that it has only been a couple hours since then but the understanding passes between them. Victor clears his throat and turns back towards Yuuri. “I think we need to call a doctor.” 

“No.” 

His lips thin, even as he keeps his hands loose on his knees. “I would be more than willing to pay for it myself, if that’s the problem.” 

“It isn’t,” Mari snaps. 

“Then what is?” 

A tense moment of silence passes before Mari sighs and there’s a soft thud as her head drops against the doorframe. Victor finally looks over at her, unsurprised by what he sees. Frustration is so clearly written on her face, lines forming between her eyebrows and her mouth twitching. 

They hold eye contact like that, neither willing to back down when it comes to what they think is best for Yuuri. It’s Victor who finally looks away as his stomach starts to churn. She’s the one who has known Yuuri for her entire life, not him. All he knows about their life before he came to Hasetsu is the few details Yuuri has shared with him. If Mari wants to explain, she might not be able to. English is no more her first language than it is his own.

Mari softens, the lines between her eyebrows smoothing out. “He’s going to be fine. My brother isn’t a weakling.”

“But how do you know that?” he asks quietly. 

“Yuuri is a lot stronger than he appears to be but I think you know that already. A little sickness isn’t about to change that, regardless of what anyone else says.” 

Victor wants nothing more than to ask how she manages to be so confident about this but the words get stuck in the back of his throat and he looks back at Yuuri. His cheeks are flushed with fever and his eyelids flicker every few moments, despite his lack of consciousness. This illness has been unlike anything Victor has seen before. By the time he glances back towards Mari, she’s already gone, leaving them alone once more.

* * *

_...I can tell that no one’s going to die again, if you want me to, you know._

_Hey-_

_I get it, you’re upset._

_Ah, no, wait, you’re not upset because you think you’re a scary figure skater with no emotions other than anger. But really, we can take a break if you want. The ice spirit is definitely going to be okay but I know it’s difficult to hear about him being sick! When I first heard the story, I begged my parents to skip ahead to when he was healthy again._

_Fine, I’ll get back to it!_

* * *

Heat. 

There is far too much heat. 

It presses against his skin, insistent that he do something about it. Yuuri squeezes his eyes shut and takes in a laboured breath as he begs to whoever is listening that it stop. The open windows stopped giving him any relief a long time ago, the sticky heat of summer only amplifying the warmth that has settled into his bones. 

If he had the energy to roll over onto his side, he would but it didn’t help the first time he tried it and he knows it won’t help now. The only thing that offers him comfort is the cool, damp cloth on his forehead but even that is fading. It could have been either minutes or hours since it started to warm against his skin. Time has been difficult to track when his sleep is just as exhausting as being awake is and oftentimes it feels as if only moments have passed when someone tells him it’s an entirely new day. 

He’s survived this before, Yuuri reminds himself as he breathes out again. Most of his summers are spent locked away in his room, seeking anything cool. His hands grasp the blankets as another wave of heat hits him. Being sick during the summer isn’t even an entirely new experience but his memories of it are blurry and hard to recall. 

Mari told him once that his parents almost locked him in a freezer the first summer after the storm. This certainly can’t be as bad as that. 

“Yuuri, you’re awake.” 

That is Victor’s voice. 

Yuuri struggles to open his eyes and fights against the heat. If Victor is here than there’s something he needs to say. There’s a lot of things he wants to say to Victor, actually, and it would start with a thank you. Or maybe he could start with telling Victor all about how pretty his eyes look and that sometimes when Yuuri is taking a break at the rink, he can’t stop watching Victor’s ass. 

The ceiling swims in front of him, only to be replaced with Victor’s smiling face. That is exactly what Yuuri is talking about. 

Even without his glasses, he can tell that Victor is gorgeous. Yuuri doesn’t think he needs his glasses in order to fill in the small details of Victor’s face after the amount of time he’s spent memorizing it. A decade could likely go by and Yuuri would still be able to remember the way his left cheek dimples when he smiles, just the way he likes it. 

“I’m glad that you enjoy my face, Yuuri,” Victor says sweetly. His smile softens when Yuuri attempts to return it and he almost thinks he feels something touch his hand. “Is there anything I can get for you?” 

His eyes close as he thinks about it. “Some ice would be nice.” 

“I could bring you some ice water and a fresh cloth, if you want.” 

“No.” Yuuri frowns. Of all people, Victor should know what he’s talking about and ice water isn’t going to do much now. “Bring me to the rink. I’ll lay on the ice and watch you skate.” 

Victor laughs, light and amused, and it makes Yuuri want to hear it over and over again. Then the touch on his hand grows firmer. Yuuri is almost certain Victor is holding it, only that would never happen outside of a dream. Not even in his dreams has he really allowed himself to wonder what it would be like if Victor had feelings for him. 

“Perhaps another time, alright? For now, I’ll go get you some water.”

His head is left distressingly empty before Yuuri can tell him to stay. Ice is not as important to him as having Victor by his side but then he hears the soft click of his door and he’s tugged back asleep. Victor will be back soon anyways and then Yuuri can tell him about what he really is.

* * *

_Uh, I don’t actually know, sorry! The ice spirit was really out of it for the whole summer but nobody ever told me if they went to the rink while the spirit was sick. I like to think that they did though. It’s just so romantic and it would have been so cute to see._

_I don’t know that either._

_Do you want me to tell the story or not? You keep saying that you want me to move on to the exciting parts but I can’t do that if I keep answering your questions about his abilities. Then everything will be out of order and the whole story just won’t be the same! You need to just listen to really experience how amazing the ice spirit is. So, stop tempting me to jump ahead or go off on tangents, please!_

* * *

Victor ignores his drink in order to fiddle with Yu-topia’s radio. The knob has rough edges that make it easy to search for stations, bits of music caught between long stretches of silence. It is always next to impossible to find Russian channels here but it’s better for him to listen to the Japanese channels anyways. The radio clears up after a few long seconds, leaving it with soft music with only the lightest hint of static. 

There is only another month before the skating season starts in full. Victor sighs and reaches for his drink again. It burns on its way down and as well as wipes away his brief reminder of what he’s missing. Victor is fine with things the way they are. 

It’ll become more convincing if he keeps telling himself that. 

All it takes is a thought to recall the incoherent babble Yuuri rattled off this evening. Victor still can’t pick any meaning out of it, just bits and pieces of something about a forest and the ocean, but it is no different than anything else he’s said this summer. Yet, it still weighs on him, enough that he’s sitting alone in the dining room after everyone else has retired for the night. Drinking is the only thing it feels like he can do at the moment, not when Yuuri is still so sick. 

His hand drops down to Makkachin’s head and sleepy black eyes briefly glance up at him before Makkachin sighs and goes back asleep. It doesn’t really matter that Victor is the one slumped over a table with nothing but his own dog for company, everything always comes back to Yuuri for him. Yuuri is more than the gorgeous man whose skating inspires him without end but someone Victor wants to make a life with. These last couple months have only proved that for him. After spending so much time constantly around Yuuri, not having him around has felt like his chest has been emptied of almost everything. 

Victor hears Mari before he sees her. His head tilts up at the opening of the dining room door and then another bottle is set down in front of him with a hard thunk. 

“Drink,” she tells him simply. 

He watches her sit down across from him before he downs what’s left in his own glass and pours himself another. The taste is really too dry for his own tastes but never has he been one to deny someone such a request. 

Mari snorts, subtly rolling her eyes. “You didn’t have to drink so fast.” 

“You told me to,” he says. 

“A sip would have been fine.” 

Victor opens his mouth to complain when he sees a hint of a smirk on her face and then closes it again. Makkachin whines as Victor pulls him into his chest and buries his head into the soft, curly fur. “Makkachin, why is everyone so mean to me?” 

“I hope you don’t think that your dog is going to answer that question for you,” she says, amused. 

He ignores the sound of Mari pouring herself a glass and pouts into the back of Makkachin’s neck, hiding a smile. Only Mari is carefully contemplating him when he finally looks up again and the smile fades from his lips. Neither of them pay much attention as Makkachin abandons both of them to find a new place to lay down on the other side of the room. 

The drink is smoother this time when Victor takes a sip. Mari does the same across the table, her eyes never leaving him. Perhaps this will be the moment where she asks him to leave and lets her words dig into him when she tells him that he’s made too many assumptions about his place in her and Yuuri’s lives. Victor takes yet another drink at the thought and looks down at the table, the weight of Mari’s gaze suddenly too much to handle.

“Yuuri doesn’t need a doctor,” she finally says.

His head shoots back up again and the corners of his lips dip down into a frown. “What are you talking about?” 

“A doctor.” The alcohol hardly seems to faze her as Mari takes another drink. “You offered to pay for a doctor a few months ago. I never told you why I refused.” 

“I don’t understand,” he says. 

“Then ask.” 

Victor runs a hand through his hair. A free pass to ask whatever he wants is the last thing he expected from Mari. 

Ever since Yuuri got sick, all they’ve been doing is dancing around each other. Some nights they will sit at different tables for hours before they force themselves to go to bed and others they poke and snap as they pretend that Yuuri isn’t struggling to breath through his fever. He lets out a low breath. This has been difficult for both of them. 

Both of them are more than aware that this should not be as difficult for Victor as it is. It has gone by without comment but that doesn’t make it any less true. A normal guest would not have bothered going to visit Yuuri every day. A normal guest would have gone back home by this point or at least moved onto another town, another source of inspiration. That Victor is still sitting here is more telling than anything else about this situation. 

“Why doesn’t Yuuri need a doctor?” Victor asks for the first time, his voice soft. 

Mari manages a smile, though the meaning falls flat between them. “The only thing wrong with Yuuri is that his temperature is too high. The local doctor would just tell us to continue doing what we’re doing.” 

“The local doctor? You mean, Yuuri has seen them?”

“Yes. It’s been a while but I doubt that his advice will have changed much since the last time.”

Victor takes in a deep breath, holding himself back from proclaiming that he doesn’t understand. It doesn’t need to be said when Mari clearly knows that already. “This has happened before then? Was it as bad as it is now?” 

“Wrong question.” 

“Why-” Victor cuts himself off as he thinks it through. “Why does his fever keep coming back?” 

Mari softens, a smile showing through. “Because Victor is different from me and you.” 

“What?” 

The word comes out sharper than he intends it and Victor swallows back his indignation, regardless of the sour taste it leaves in the back of his throat. Mari doesn’t seem to be talking about the type of different Victor once thought had marked Yuuri as different, an interest in men that had the townspeople avoiding him. It was something he thought had tied them together.

Mari continues to watch him as he takes another drink, her face unreadable. It still burns on its way down but he appreciates it this time around. This is likely the reason why Mari brought out the bottle in the first place. 

“How is he different from us?” he asks quietly. 

“Yuuri isn’t human, not anymore. He’s a-” Mari pauses and her face twists with displeasure as she attempts to find the word she’s looking for. “A _yuki-onna_. Yuuri is a _yuki-onna_.” 

“A _yuki-onna_? That’s a… snow woman, is it not? I don’t see how Yuuri could be a snow woman.” 

Mari shrugs. “Your Japanese is improving but the literal translation is only mostly right. Besides, you don’t know the myth of the _yuki-onna_.”

“I don’t?” he asks. 

“No, or you would have reacted when I said it.” Mari leans back and her eyes close in yet another attempt to find a real explanation while Victor sits there, captivated. “The stories say that a yuki-onna is someone who wanders through snowstorms, looking to kill travellers, after she perished in a storm herself. The how and the why changes depending on who is telling the story but that part usually stays the same.” 

“That-” 

“I’m not finished.” 

Victor falls silent again and motions for her to continue. 

“The yuki-onna isn’t exactly like Yuuri but when Yuuri was a kid, he got stuck in a snowstorm for days. Everyone thought he died but we found him, as cold as ice but still breathing and so, our parents say he’s like a _yuki-onna_ ,” she finishes.

Neither of them say anything for good, long moments as Victor stares down at the low table in front of them. 

“There’s more but Yuuri should be the one to tell you.”

* * *

_The skater didn’t really know what to do after that point. There wasn’t really anything he could do, actually, not when the spirit was still sick. It isn’t like the spirit likes sharing these things with other people probably because he thinks it’s something shameful and back then, the townspeople didn’t really make it any easier. Which is stupid because his abilities are so-_

_Are you alright?_

_Hey, don’t snap at me! Uh, you’re so weird. How about we take a break for the day? Then you can stop pretending to have something stuck in your eye._

_Right, like I can’t tell when someone is trying not to cry. Just go home, would you? I have to get some sleep sometime. Yuuri has me at the rink all day tomorrow because he thinks working with the kids will ‘build up my basic skills’ or something like that. I mean, it’s an honour to be taught by him but they’re always so mean to me. They get distracted whenever I try to teach them something and they don’t even care that I can almost do a triple axel anymore!_

_Huh?_

_Well, I’m sure he would give you some pointers if you came by the rink sometime. He doesn’t bite, I promise._

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit [me!](http://serendipitousdescent.tumblr.com)


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